


Pas De Deux

by julzapple



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: AU, M/M, ballerina!baz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6482854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julzapple/pseuds/julzapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pas de deux - a dance for two.</p>
<p>Simon Snow just wants to mourn over his breakup with Agatha in peace. He doesn't want to go to see a ballet, and he certainly doesn't want to fall in love with a guy with a dumb name and a talent for dancing. Somehow, he does both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Simon**

 

Penny’s dragging me to see a ballet with her. I think it’d be more enjoyable for both of us if I just stayed at home, but Penny wants me to go, so I do.

She frowns at me when I walk out of my room wearing a sweater and jeans.

“What?” I say.

“Don’t you have anything nicer?”

“No. Do I have to go?”

“ _Yes._ I’m not wasting the tickets, they were expensive. And you can’t just sit around crying over Agatha for the rest of your life. It’s been months. I thought you’d be over it by now.”

“Can you stop being such a _dick_ about this? I thought everything was going alright, and then she just dumps me out of the blue and moves to California to _find herself_. I think I have every right to be upset about that.”

“You were fighting for _ages_. It’s like everyone saw the breakup coming but you. Now go get dressed.”

“Do I _really_ have to go? Why can’t you bring Micah instead?” Maybe I can feel like shit over Agatha for one more night.  

“I _told you_ , Simon. He’s working. Don't you ever listen to me?”

“No.”

“Of course you don’t,” she sighs. “Now _go_. We’ll be late.”

“What are you? My mother?”

“I might as well be, considering all the parental figures in your life have been pretty shit.”

I don't try to argue with her, she hates my dad.  And she’s probably right about that anyway.

I peer into my closet. “Penny!”

“What?”

“I really don't have anything nicer.”

She sighs in defeat. “Fine. We’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

 

We’re late anyway. I say that it’s the traffic’s fault; Penny says that it’s mine.

She runs to the ticket box, even though she’s wearing heels and the ground is ancient uneven brick. I’m not sure how she does it. I can barely walk five feet without tripping.

The worker frowns when he sees me, but accepts our tickets. Penny was right, I should’ve worn something fancier.

Penny opens the theatre doors. When we walk in, the theatre is silent except for soft classical music. Dancers move gracefully across the stage. I trip. Loudly. Penny barely stifles a laugh and I elbow her in the ribs.

We make our way to our seats, me whispering sorry’s and pardon me’s every time I step on someone's bags or feet, Penny weaving her way through the seats without a problem.

“You’re a mess, Simon,” Penny whispers when we finally sit down.

“Shut up and watch the show.”

“You’re only saying that because you don’t want me to make fun of you.”

“Shut up,” I say, even though she’s right. Penny’s almost always right.

I look back at the stage. I have no clue what’s going on. It’s pretty, though. The dancers especially. There’s one, with long black hair, and strong legs. He might be the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen. He looks graceful and breathtaking and ruthless.

“Jesus fuck.”

“ _What_?”

“He’s pretty. Really pretty.”

“Who?”

It probably would’ve been better if I just kept my mouth shut.

“Oh my God, _Simon._ Is it the guy with the long hair? Tell me it’s him.”

“Yes?”

She grins at me. “You have a _crush_.”

“Please don’t call it a crush, it's embarrassing. We’re not in primary school anymore.”

Penny laughs. “So. Do you like him or do you _like-like_ him.”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I _know_ that I’m clever.”

Someone in front of us turns around and very politely tells us to _shut the fuck up_. We both look back to the stage.

We don’t talk again until the show ends, but I can tell that Penny’s fighting hard to keep her mouth shut. But I don’t pay attention to her. I watch the dancer. He must have a lead role, he’s on the stage constantly. I’m not complaining. I could watch him dance forever.  

But all too soon, the curtains close and the show’s over. Penny starts to get up and I turn to her.

“I need to go to the bathroom. Can you wait in the car?”

“Yeah,” she says.

I’m not sure where I’m going. I weave my way through the aisles of seats and make my way backstage. I don’t realize that I’m looking for the guy I saw earlier on the stage until I spot his long black hair. I’m scared that someone’s going to know that I don’t belong back here and kick me out. But nobody pays attention to me.

I follow the dancer through a maze of corridors and hallways. I have no clue how he hasn’t lost his way. I realize a little too late that it’s a little stalkerish to follow a guy I don’t know around, but by then I’m in too deep to back out.

He opens a window and climbs out onto the fire escape.

I wait a few seconds so that it doesn’t look like I was following him. Then I realize that that’s stupid because he _climbed out a window onto a fucking fire escape._

I climb outside after him.

The dancer’s leaning against a brick wall, smoking a cigarette. Wet strands of his hair fall into his face. He’s wearing a tank top and old ripped jeans.

If he was pretty up on stage, it's nothing compared to how he looks right now. He’s fucking gorgeous up close. Pale skin, dark eyelashes, a fucking widow’s peak.

He doesn’t say anything. So I wait, watching him. I realize that this is probably weird too. He finally looks up and growls, “Are you just going to stand there or are you actually going to say something?"

His voice wasn’t what I was expecting. It’s low and silky smooth. He sounds like someone who should be giving speeches in front of crowds, not smoking cigarettes in an alley after doing a ballet show.

I tell him that and he laughs bitterly.

“I guess I can add you to the people I’ve disappointed by not becoming a politician.”

I wince. “No, no, no, oh god. That’s not what I meant.”

“What _did_ you mean then?”

“I - I don’t know. You have a really nice voice. Just - shit,” I close my eyes. I haven't talked to him for more than a minute and I’ve already fucked everything up.

“Shit. Can we just start this whole conversation over?”

“Depends, he says, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Are you going to continue being a complete git?”

“No? Maybe? Hopefully not. I’m sorry,” I sigh and reach out my hand. “I’m Simon Snow.”

He takes one last drag from his cigarette before he drops it on the ground and stomps it out.

He takes my hand and shakes it. He has nice hands. Long slender fingers almost like a pianist’s, and his palm is rough. he has callouses on his fingers. “Baz Pitch,” he says, blowing a cloud of smoke into my face.

“The fuck kind of name is that?” I sputter after I finish coughing.

“You should hear my full name,” He says.

“I don’t even _want_ to know the rest. What could be worse than ‘Baz’? What kind of pretentious name is that?”

He laughs at that. A real laugh this time. He takes a pen out of his pocket and reaches out to grab my wrist. My pulse is racing, I’m sure he can feel it. He writes down a number on my arm. His, hopefully.

He looks up and smiles. He has a pretty smile. “Call me,” He says. “Just, please _do not_ call tonight. Or tomorrow. I need to shower and then sleep for at least a day. But after that,” his smile widens. “Maybe we can go for coffee? I could tell you the rest of my name, you could laugh at it. And you will, without a fail, laugh. Then I could make fun of you for following me all the way out onto this fire escape.”

I stare at him. “I. Okay, yeah.”

Then he climbs out the window. He starts walking away, but he turns around and makes a “call me” sign. I nod and he turns away with a smile.     

I stand there for a few minutes after he leaves. Then I realize that Penny’s been waiting for me.

I gracelessly fall through the window. I stand up, hoping nobody saw me. There’s probably cameras. Whoever’s watching the security tapes is probably having a field day with me.

I try to follow the route we took when I followed the dancer, no, _Baz_ . His name is _Baz_. I manage to only get lost a total of 5 times.

I finally walk out of the theatre and back to the car. I open the passenger side door.

“What took you so long? Did you get lost?”

“Yes. But,” I say and hold up my arm, “His name is Baz. And I got his number.”

“You didn’t,” she says, sounding vaguely impressed.

“I did.”


	2. Chapter 2

I’ve tried calling Baz a total of five times. I figured it’d be easier than trying to construct a perfectly typed text, with the correct blend of casual and formal. But it isn’t, because I still have to use words and I can never seem to get what I’m thinking out in sentences. Each time I tried to hit the call button, something stopped me. 

Penny decided it would help me if I just practiced with her, but somehow it’s making everything worse. My words never come out right and I end up sounding like an idiot. 

“Simon, focus,” Penny says, as if it’s that easy. 

“I’m trying.” 

“Try harder. Do you want to try it again?”

“Fine. Okay,” I look at Penny. She looks like she’s trying not to laugh at me. “This isn’t funny Penny!” 

“I never said it was! Come on, you’re stalling.”

I take a deep breath and try not to look at Penny. “Okay. Um, hi? It’s Simon? The guy from a few days ago? At the ballet thing? I wanted to know if you wanted to go out sometime? For a coffee or something?” I look up at Penny.

“I think that may have been the worst one yet.” 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s okay, Simon. If he really likes you, he probably won’t care.”

“Okay.” I stare at my phone. “Should I call him?”

“Yes. There’s no point in putting it off. It’ll just make it worse.”

I start typing his number in. Right before I can hit the call button, I stop myself.

“What if I mess up?” I ask.

“Please don’t start this again. It’s going to go fine.” 

“But-”

“Simon, if you don't call him, I will.”

“Shut up, Penny,” I put my head in my hands. I spread my fingers wide enough to look through them at my phone set on the table. Baz’s number is typed in. All that’s left to do is call him. I don’t know why I can’t just do that, hit one stupid button. “What do I even say to him?”

“We just practiced this. Just say whatever you said just now. Maybe try not to make every sentence a question. It’s going to be fine, I promise.”

I stare at the table. It’s nice, with dark polished wood. I trace the patterns on it with my finger, trying to get my thoughts together. This probably would’ve gone better if I had just winged it. I shift uneasily in my chair. The back is too straight to sit in comfortably.

“What did you say when you asked Agatha out?” Penny asks.

“I think I stuttered something. And she felt bad for me, so she said yes.”

Penny groans. 

“How am I going to do this?” I say. “I’ve never dated a guy. I’m not even sure if I’m gay.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yes?”

“Then stop worrying about that, it doesn’t matter. You can figure your sexuality out later. Just call him.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I say. It’s true, my heart’s racing and I feel like I’m going to throw up. 

She gestures angrily at the phone. “Call him!”

“Okay, okay. I can do this.” But I’m not sure that I can. He was so calm and collected last night. I can barely say a sentence without stuttering.

“Yes! Now call him.”

I look around one last time, trying desperately to get my thoughts together, but the warm coloured walls don’t offer any words of advice, and I don’t think staring at them will help me think of anything smart to say to Baz. I hit the call button. 

He answers on the first ring. “Hello?” 

“Uh. Hi.” Penny looks ready to start laughing at me. I don’t find it very reassuring.

“Simon?” he says.

“Yeah,” I cough. “That’s me.”

He laughs at me too. Not meanly. I want to hang up. But that’d be rude, and Penny would probably never stop making fun of me and I really want to see him again.

“This is so awkward. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t think you’d call.” 

I laugh. I don’t know why he’d think that. He was an asshole but he was charming, and he was the probably prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, even when he was sweaty and tired and gross after all that dancing. 

“I-I want to see you again,” I mutter.

“I didn’t think you’d even want to talk to me again. Not after I called you an idiot.”

“You didn’t call me an idiot. Not out loud, anyway. You probably thought it, though.”

“I apologize for that.”

“It’s fine. It’s probably true.” I don’t know why he’s still talking to me. He sounds smart and posh and I have the vocabulary of a nine year old. “But, uh, when do you want to… meet? I wanna hear the rest of your bullshit name.”

Penny mouths a “what?” at me. Baz laughs. 

“Tomorrow? Over a cup of coffee? I know it’s typical, but there’s a Starbucks right next to the theatre, if that isn’t too far.”

“No, the Starbucks is fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want it to be too boring.”

“I don’t think any place could be boring. Not if I was with you.”

“Are you flirting?”

“I don’t know,” I say. Am I? 

He laughs again. I decide that I really like his laugh. It’s low and soft, like his voice.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “I have to go. See you tomorrow? At eleven maybe?”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” I say. I hang up before he can reply.

I look up at Penny. She smiles at me. 

“I told you it would go well.”

“I sounded like an idiot.”

“It could’ve gone worse. You’re going on a date, aren’t you?” 

“I guess so. It could’ve gone better, though.” I don’t know why I’m trying to argue with her She’s right. Penny’s always right.

“Stop worrying, Simon. He likes you.” 

I sigh. There’s no point in trying to prove her wrong, even though there’s a million and one reasons why Baz will probably end up hating me after tomorrow. 

“I’m going to bed,” I say.

“It’s only eight.”

I shrug. “I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow.”

She smiles. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

I change into my pajamas. I don’t sleep though. I can’t. My stomach’s tied up in knots over the date (is it a date? Baz never called it a date), and I can’t stop thinking about if I’m even gay. Penny said it doesn’t matter, and maybe it doesn’t. But Baz probably wouldn’t want to date a mess like me, someone who doesn’t even know what he wants.

I end up falling asleep sometime after one, still thinking about Baz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i'm posting this chapter again but the first one was awful and rushed and hopefully?? this one is at least slightly less awful lmao??? but sorry that it's been 9 years hopefully i'll start being more productive soon.


End file.
